Never Tell
by chelsie fan
Summary: My offering for week 1 of #unofficialdas7! There's something Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes never speak of, but perhaps they should.


**This is my response to the DA S7 I proposed on tumblr to fill the emptiness DA left in its wake when it ended. It's meant to help soothe the pain caused by the lack of a new season. I had originally meant to contribute something else, but this is what I managed. Since I was the one who proposed the whole S7 thing, I felt I** _ **had**_ **to contribute. I'm not thrilled with this, but I hope you enjoy! And I hope to still be able to flesh out my original idea for future weeks. Thanks for reading!**

 _April, 1919_

"Come, now, Mrs. Hughes. You've been fussing over him like this for days. When was the last time you slept? In your bed, I mean. Not simply dozing on and off in that chair over there," whispered Mrs. Patmore as she stood just inside Mr. Carson's bedroom door.

"He's _ill_ , Mrs. Patmore. Very ill. Someone needs to care for him," Mrs. Hughes whispered back insistently.

"I'll stay here with him while you go and get some rest," offered Mrs. Patmore.

But Mrs. Hughes refused. "No. You shouldn't get too close. I don't want you to become ill, too."

"But _you_ 've been by his side the whole time! What about _you_?"

"Precisely. I've already been exposed. If I'm going to catch it, I'm going to catch it. There's no sense in your getting sick, too."

The cook scrunched up her face and frowned in frustration. "I'm not going to _kiss him_ or _climb in bed next to him_ , for Heaven's sake! I'm going to move that chair over here, all the way across the room, and I'm going to sit here and _watch_ him. No one ever caught the Spanish flu just by _looking_ at someone who's been infected!"

"I don't want to leave him," admitted Mrs. Hughes, looking at the sleeping butler. "He may … He might … What if … ? If anything were to happen to him … "

"He's resting comfortably right now. I promise I'll come and get you if anything changes – for better or worse."

Mrs. Hughes let out a strangled sob. Mrs. Patmore took the housekeeper's hands in her own and held them, squeezing tightly.

"I know. I know, Mrs. Hughes. There, there. That man is strong as an ox. He's going to be all right. Just wait and see. I'm sure of it."

Mrs. Hughes tried to smile and nodded her head, sniffling softly. "You see, Mrs. Patmore, I … " But she couldn't finish her sentence.

"You _love_ him. I know." The housekeeper didn't look surprised and didn't try to deny it, so Mrs. Patmore continued. "And I daresay _he_ knows it, too, deep down. And I know for certain that he loves you, too."

Mrs. Hughes scoffed. "I very much doubt that."

"He _does_ , Mrs. Hughes. I'm sure of it. Have the two of you really never spoken of it? Even in a … _roundabout_ way?"

"Of course not!" answered Mrs. Hughes, as if it were obvious.

"No, of course not. Silly question," said the cook with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "But don't you think perhaps you _should_?"

"No, I do _not_!" said Mrs. Hughes emphatically. "And you're not to say a word to him or interfere in any way."

"Fine. On one condition. You go and get some rest right now."

"I can't!"

"You can, and you will," Mrs. Patmore persisted. "I mean it, Mrs. Hughes. You go and lie down on your bed, and don't you move until dinnertime at the earliest! And if I see you before then, Mr. Carson and I are going to have a nice, long chat."

"Please, Mrs. Patmore!"

"Go!" But at seeing her friend so distraught, Mrs. Patmore softened. "I'll fetch you the moment he wakes," she promised.

And Mrs. Hughes departed with a mixture of relief and reluctance.

 _April, 1920_

Mrs. Patmore had just hung her apron and was ready to head upstairs for the night when she heard sniffling sounds coming from the butler's pantry. She followed the sliver of light shining through the door, which was cracked open just an inch or two, and peeked in to see Mr. Carson sitting hunched over his desk, his face buried in his hands. He looked up when he sensed her at the door. He immediately straightened up and tried to compose himself, but there was no hiding his wet cheeks or red eyes.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat as he stood. "I thought everyone else had gone up."

"Everyone but the two of us," said Mrs. Patmore.

"Yes, well … "

Mrs. Patmore came straight to the point. "I don't suppose your current state has anything to do with your concern for a certain housekeeper – one who may or _may not_ be ill."

Mr. Carson said nothing, only looked at the cook with his mouth turned down stiffly and a great sadness in his eyes.

"We don't know anything for sure yet, Mr. Carson. You must have hope. Mrs. Hughes is a strong woman. She's a fighter, as you well know."

The butler's face betrayed a wry smile. "I _do_ know, yes." He walked around from behind his desk and gestured to his two armchairs, and they both sat.

"She doesn't even know that I know," said the butler. "I can't support her … or … do anything to comfort her. She's very dear to me, you know. If it _is_ cancer …" His eyes filled with tears once more.

Mrs. Patmore reached over and patted his hand. "I know how much you love her. But you need to tell her that."

"I can't burden her with that! Not _now_!"

Mrs. Patmore's face twisted into a look of exasperated confusion. "How do you reckon that your love would be a _burden_ to her? And _now_ is when she needs it most of all!"

"She doesn't return my feelings, Mrs. Patmore!" insisted Mr. Carson.

"Of course she does! Why, when you were ill last year – " Mrs. Patmore stopped suddenly.

"When I was ill, she cared for me because she's a kind woman. She doesn't love me!"

"How do you know? Have you ever asked her?" Mrs. Patmore challenged.

"No, of course not!"

"So _she_ doesn't know how _you_ feel, and _you_ don't know how _she_ feels!"

"She doesn't love me, Mrs. Patmore, and for that reason, I very much hope she will _never_ know how I feel!"

The cook fixed the butler with a threatening glare.

"Ohhhhhh, no," he said, shaking his head when he interpreted her meaning. "You may not tell her!"

"Very well. _I_ won't tell her. _You_ will!"

"I will _not_!"

"If _you don't_ , then _I will_! But one way or another, _someone_ is going to tell Mrs. Hughes that you love her!"

"I believe someone just did," came a voice from the doorway.

"Mrs. Hughes!" cried Mr. Carson, a look of panic on his face.

"Mrs. Hughes!" cried Mrs. Patmore, a look of relief and delight on her face. "Thank the Lord! I do believe my work here is done. Now if you both will excuse me, I'll say good night." And the cook made a hasty exit, her two friends hardly taking notice.

Mr. Carson stood as Mrs. Hughes entered and closed the door.

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm so sorry!" Mr. Carson began. "You weren't meant to know. Ever!" He cast his eyes down to the floor.

"I didn't mean to overhear. I just came down to get my book, and I heard your voices."

"Yes, well, perhaps we can just pretend that you _didn't_ hear. I'm sure it makes you uncomfortable, and it certainly makes _me_ uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry to hear that it makes you uncomfortable. It makes _me_ very happy."

"It does?" asked Mr. Carson, astonished.

Mrs. Hughes nodded shyly. "It does. And I hope it eases your discomfort to know that you were wrong. I _do_ return your feelings."

Mr. Carson wept openly then, and Mrs. Hughes shed many tears of her own. He drew her into his arms, buried his head in her shoulder, and held her tightly. For her part, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into his chest.

"I love you, Elsie," he told her when he finally calmed somewhat. He drew back to look in her eyes. "And we will face everything together from this moment forward – _everything_! Whether you are ill or well, we _will_ be together. If you are ill, then I will love you gently and tenderly and never leave your side. If you are well, then I will love you intensely and passionately and never leave your side. But whatever the future holds, I will love you for the rest of my days."

"Oh, Charles!" she said. "I love you, too. I don't know how many days I have left, but as many or few as they may be, I will spend every one of them loving you, happy in the knowledge that you love me, too."

He lowered his face, and she raised hers, and their lips meet sweetly for the first of many times.

 _It came to pass that Mrs. Hughes was_ _ **not**_ _ill, and the butler and housekeeper were married and spent many happy years together. Though they were overjoyed that Mrs. Hughes actually_ _ **never was**_ _ill, they were nevertheless grateful that the_ _ **possibility**_ _of her illness brought them together._


End file.
